The Spirit of the Glen
The cabin smelled like pine resin and woodsmoke, which is to say it smelled like home and the kind of peace that makes men do foolish things. Jack Morrison stood behind the counter, flour dusting his forearms like a second skin, and watched Catherine O'Brien walk in through the door that now bore his name in hand-painted gold letters. "You look surprised," she said. "I'm always surprised when...
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